


emic

by Siria



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e12 Dog Fight, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene for 1.12, Dogfight. The Can Opener Incident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	emic

**Author's Note:**

> Edited to add, Jan. 2013: I've recently learned that this story has been widely linked to on Facebook and YouTube by people under the impression that this is an actual missing scene or script excerpt from the show _Suits_. This is incorrect. This is a work of [fanfiction](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fan_fiction). It is unauthorised, and I am not connected to anyone involved in the writing or production of _Suits_ in any way.

Donna knew it was a nervous tic, but she couldn't quite stop her fingers from drumming against the clear glass of Harvey's desk while he was off liberating a can opener from the partners' kitchen. She got all the way through the first verse and chorus of "Battle Hymn of the Republic" by the time he returned, seeking calm in the song's even rhythm—it wasn't quite a glass of neat scotch, but it would have to do.

"Two minutes and twenty seconds," Harvey said when he walked in, palm curled around the can opener as if to shield it from curious eyes. "I take it we can forego the process of getting into character for the sake of time?"

"Not even a little," Donna said dismissively, putting her hands on her hips. "You know how I like to inhabit my roles. But we'll do the shorter medley, I don't have time to change my hair."

Harvey quirked an eyebrow at her, but brandished the can opener without hesitation. He cleared his throat, curled his lip, and then rattled off, with the confidence that came with a ritual's well-worn performance: "I know what you're thinking: _Did he fire six shots or only five_? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: _Do I feel lucky_? Well, do ya, punk?" He waggled the can opener around in mock punctuation.

Donna cocked a hip, gave him her best punk-like sneer—which was pretty damn good if she did say so herself; three college credits in another direction and she'd have her degree in drama and George Clooney on her arm come this year's Oscars—and shot back, "You want answers?"

"I want the truth!" Harvey snapped, and that right there was why he needed this: one kind of tension bleeding away and being replaced by another, necessary kind.

"You can't handle the truth," Donna yelled, baring her teeth at him and trusting in the office's sound proofing to stop anyone walking past from overhearing them.

"You're out of order!" Harvey said, hands flying, making the opener glint in the sunlight. "You're out of order! The whole trial is out of order!"

Donna couldn't quite pinpoint the moment at which this had become their thing: which all-nighter pulled over lousy re-heated Chinese takeout and terrible coffee had first seen the formalisation of their habit of lobbing movie quotes at one another; which half-joking pre-trial invocation of Dirty Harry, Columbo, Han Solo became half-serious instead. But if she didn't know where it had started, she knew what it could do for them now, seventeen years later and one hell of a lot of water under the bridge: gave them something to return to whenever anything went wrong enough that Harvey had to go to trial; gave them a rhythm to remind them that they'd been through this all before, together, and they'd come through it all again.

So she caught the can opener when he tossed it to her, bumped her knuckles against his and mirrored the complicated movements he etched in the air with his fingers—partnership made visible.

"You could have put a little more heat into your Nicholson," Harvey said, eyes crinkling in the way that told her he was teasing, that said he was grateful.

"Oh please," Donna said, rolling her eyes, clicking her fingers to remind him of his briefcase and then shooing him out of the room. "You know I was flawless."

**Author's Note:**

> Movie quotes from Dirty Harry (1971), A Few Good Men (1992) and ...And Justice for All (1979).


End file.
